


Breaking the Ice

by andveryginger



Series: Deja New [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Double Agents, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, RPverse, Spies & Secret Agents, non-canon backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 07:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger
Summary: Mairen begins to understand the ally she has in Reanden Taerich.





	Breaking the Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Ginger at the helm this time, with input from Keldae. 
> 
> Takes place about six weeks after the formal outbreak of war, breaking the Treaty of Coruscant, and thus approximately seven weeks after "Deja New."

_**Kaas City, Dromund Kaas  
3641 BBY | 12 ATC** _

  
She felt it before the news alert could even sound on her console: After a decade of tension, the galaxy had exploded once again into a maelstrom of hope and despair; of love and hate; light and shadows as the war began anew. The vehemence with which it echoed through the Force startled her from an already restless sleep. The six weeks since had been a whirlwind of meetings and briefings and a vast array of new reports that the Council demanded of her and her analysts. It was a brutal, punishing pace. Then again, her superiors, as true Sith, were drawing strength from the chaos. As a Jedi, she grasped onto every tendril of hope she could find. Meditation -- once a luxury -- became a necessity, helping her regain her focus and maintain the facade required to ensure her safety.  
  
Focussing on her breathing, on the gentle rise and fall of her chest, Mairen sought out the tiny tendrils of light that still wavered around her. The voice of her father lingered in her mind as she repeated the key tenet of the code that rang through the Force today: Emotion, yet peace. It was all right to be disturbed, to be upset, even to fear the danger -- but she had to face those feelings, to find peace despite them.  
  
Slowly, her awareness narrowed and her apartment faded around her. She drifted alongside the shifting and twirling threads of light that shone brightly in the darkness. And then she felt the tug -- a single, grey-white thread that pulled at her and demanded her attention. Recognition settled over her and she grimaced.  
  
Reanden Taerich.  
  
By rights, she should never know what his signature looked like. A field operative, after all, was trained to act much like a black hole, devoid of all Force signature. It was a shield he maintained almost constantly… but then, as a deep cover SIS operative, himself, he would have to. Any chink or crack in the armor could cost him his life, that of his family, or both.  
  
That still didn’t excuse his ill-mannered behavior. He seemed to delight in pressing buttons, in pushing people to the limits of their anger and frustration during their interactions with him. Yet, by all accounts, he had served as a commendable diplomat when using the Ambassador Corps as his cover. How that was possible, she had no idea.  
  
Thus, the slender glow at the core of his signature was surprising… and yet, she supposed, not. Two decades of cover work on Dromund Kaas, during which he lost his wife and essentially two of his children, could have turned him to a roiling mass of darkness. But it didn’t. Instead, he seemed to channel the grief, anger, and frustration into service, helping the SIS -- the galaxy, really -- while exacting a small measure of revenge on the Empire. Perhaps this was the light at his core? Or was it simply the love and devotion he carried for his family?  
  
Regardless, _this_ was the man who would be acting as principal agent for Dromund Kaas -- essentially her supervisor in the SIS. Inwardly, she shook her head. An _impossible_ man who provoked such an… _emotional_ response. Cynical and derisive, his words could be so… cutting. Impatient. Rude. All so contradictory to his signature -- and to his touch, she thought, warmth curling through her at the very memory. United by a common cause -- and the heat of that very enjoyable moment -- they had declared a ceasefire. Time and more cooperation would determine whether it would hold.  
  
She had just turned away from his signature when the sound of the door chime echoed in the silence of her apartment, dragging her from the depths of her meditation. Reaching for an identity, she found nothing… save a narrow, indistinct sliver. That meant operative, and likely Taerich himself. _Perhaps the Force was sending me a warning,_ she thought, sighing as she pushed herself to her feet.  
  
The sliding door parted and the agent in question stood on her doorstep. A droll smile twitched across her lips. “I don’t really have time for ten rounds this morning, Agent,” she said. “I don’t even really have time for three rounds.”  
  
“Then I settle this quickly -- you win,” he said. He clasped his hands together at his waist, hazel eyes troubled, corners of his mouth turned down as he straightened. “We need to talk.”  
  
Mairen frowned. Accomplished as he was at blocking inquisitive Force users, she had learned to rely on reading his body language, watching and waiting for a tell. But he wasn’t guarding his body language: He was concerned -- upset -- and he was letting her know. It was enough to spark her own uneasiness. She stepped aside, gesturing to the apartment at large. “Come in, then.”  
  
Behind him, the door hissed closed and she turned for the kitchen. “Tea? Caf?”  
  
“I appreciate the offer, but… no,” he said. He followed her into the kitchen and hovered across the open counter as she prepared her tea. “I’m sure you’re aware the Empire moved onto Corellia.”  
  
Her chest tightened and she felt a chill crawl up her spine. She said nothing for a long moment, mixing sugar and milk into the steaming brew before doing so. “Yes, of course,” she replied. Her voice wavered only slightly, but took on a huskier note as she struggled against her emotions. “It’s still home -- one I hope to return to someday.” An effort at a wry grin twitched at her lips. “What’s left of it, at any rate...”  
  
His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, mouth shifting sideways for an instant. “I hope you get that opportunity,” he said. “I…” He paused, glancing down at the counter, exhaling, then looked back up at her. “There’s been action against the Enclave, Mairen.”  
  
“I see.” The knot she had been fighting back since his declaration that they needed to talk suddenly arose, fully formed, in the back of her throat, her eyes beginning to sting. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter until her knuckles went pale. “My mother? Adrie?”  
  
“Your mother was in session on Coruscant,” he answered. There was sympathy in his eyes and Mairen had to look away. “Adrie… she and many of the other Green Jedi fought off the initial wave, but the ship covering the assault was shot down. It… crashed into the Enclave…”  
  
Grief grasped at her chest, stealing away her breath. Adrie. Her sister who had looked up to her, blue eyes shining. Her sister who stared after her, blue eyes bloodshot and brimming with tears as she walked away… who thought she was a turncoat and a traitor and a Sith. She was gone. She was gone and she would never know it was all a fake. Her sister who had a husband and children and a legacy…  
  
The gasp escaped her unbidden, and she gripped the countertop harder to fight the tilt and swirl of reality around her. That was when she felt the warmth of his arms slip around her, supporting her as her knees sagged. His chest was solid and firm as she remembered -- stable -- as he held her against him, keeping her on her feet as she turned. Her hands reached for his shoulders, her face buried into his neck as tears soaked her face, his shirt, his skin.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Mairen,” he whispered to her. His hand smoothed over her hair, and he drew her closer. “I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell you, but… I didn’t want you to find it in the dispatches. And…” He swallowed. “And I thought it should come from me. Whatever else is going on, we’re in this together.”  
  
She nodded mutely, still unable to find her voice. Force, she hoped Adrie could find her now, see her now -- what she was really doing. That she wasn’t the traitor they believed; that she could never truly turn on her family, on Corellia so completely. It would be her hope from now until her own dying day, whenever and however it came.  
  
Mairen would never know how long they stood in her kitchen, how long he held her until the tears and grief loosened their grasp on her. Slowly, she drew back from his embrace, wiping fiercely at the tears that remained on her cheeks. She spotted the rather large, damp circle on his shirt, lurking at his clavicle. “I-I’m sorry, Agent. I --”  
  
Taerich shook his head, his hands gently bracing her arms as she stepped back. “It’s fine,” he said. “And, I really think, given our circumstances -- work and everything else -- you could probably call me ‘Reanden.’” A rueful smile slipped across his lips. “At least when we’re not concerned about being overheard… or debating the merits of our various positions.”  
  
The laugh that escaped her was loud and boisterous, part humor, part relief. She sniffed, nodding. “Yes, I suspect you’re right… Reanden.”  
  
He nodded once. There was a flutter behind his eyes, she noted, but it disappeared before she could place it. His hands remained against her arms, and he seemed in no hurry to move them. That was fine by her. “Now… are you alright?” he asked.  
  
“No...but I will be.” She looked to him, allowing her gratitude and appreciation to show in her features. “Thank you. I...It’s impossible news to deliver, and you were right: I didn’t want them to tell me, to show me.”  
  
Taerich chuckled. “I guess that means I’m not as big an asshole as your Sith colleagues?”  
  
“Not by a long shot.” Mairen shook her head. She pursed her lips, looking at him. Her meditation earlier had shown her so many things, and his support revealed he possessed a sympathetic side she never could have believed. If her own gaze softened as she looked at him, it was unintentional. “Again -- thank you.”  
  
His voice was somewhat deep, rough around the edges as he responded, “Anytime.”  
  
A long moment passed between them, his thumbs tracing an arc over her biceps, their eyes tracing familiar features with new understanding. And then, in a blink, he gave her arms one final squeeze, stepping awkwardly back, an echo of an earlier time. The haze between them snapped and he cleared his throat. “I… should head for the Citadel,” he replied. He smoothed his hands over the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ll see you later this morning?”  
  
Her mind struggled to catch up. “Yes; yes, of course,” she managed. “I’ll… take a few extra minutes this morning, maybe another cup of tea, now that this one’s cold. I should make it in time for Lord Beniko’s briefing.”  
  
“Good.” He nodded. “Good.” Then, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, he turned toward the door. “I’ll see you then.”  
  
Mairen followed him toward the door, stood watching as he disappeared down the hall. Stepping back into her apartment, she allowed the panel to slide closed, then leaned heavily against it. More meditation, it seemed, would be in order before she could face the galaxy today.  
  
But at least she was beginning to understand the ally she had in Reanden Taerich.


End file.
